


Scared to be Lonely (Jenlisa)

by Dreamofshadows



Category: BLACKPINK (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Barista Lisa, Character Death, F/F, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25893721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamofshadows/pseuds/Dreamofshadows
Summary: Lisa's lonely existence seemingly ends when she falls head over heels for the gorgeous Jennie Kim, who seemingly returns the sentiment. But all is not what it seems.Lisa's quest for love may just become her lifelong torment.
Relationships: Jennie Kim/Kim Jisoo, Jennie Kim/Lalisa Manoban | Lisa
Kudos: 31





	Scared to be Lonely (Jenlisa)

If I had known I would meet her that day, I'm not so sure I would have gone in for my shift. Actually scratch that. I'm too weak. Of course I would have still gone. But unfortunately, we do not have the gift of foresight so I wasn't to know what bittersweet pain was coming my way.

Her name is Kim Jennie, otherwise known as the most perfect woman in existence.

I remember it was a Tuesday (stories always seem to start on a Tuesday huh? Like in Harry Potter, or Dr Drakken from Kim Possible). And the reason I remember it was a Tuesday is because I had to specifically pass by Jungkook's house on my way to work to pick him up and drop him at school.

Jungkook always needed my ride on Tuesdays because his parents would be at work and he had an early class that he wouldn't be able to catch on time even if he caught the bus. That is, unless he went to college two hours early when everyone was still fast asleep and nobody in their right minds would do that. Hence (not chickens...just kidding), being the ever-so-generous neighbour/noona, I offered to give him rides on Tuesdays.

So, it was a Tuesday.

A rather ordinary October morning. We don't open until eleven but still, Chaeyoung (the owner of the café I work at) likes to have us come in early to make sure everything is spic and span. She's a bit obsessed with cleanliness. We also help with checking up on stocks and supplies and making sure things are ship-shape, ready to receive customers. Work can be a drag sometimes, but we do have a steady flow of people at the barista counter for hot chocolates and shakes and other drinks at this time of the autumn season, when Halloween is almost upon us.

We're no Starbucks, but I can fix you a mean spicy pumpkin latté in a jiffy, and at a much cheaper price too.

Chaeyoung, the most cheerful manager I've ever worked for, joked that I should be the one handing out pumpkin drinks to the girls because of my carrot orange (she called it pumpkin orange) hair. I had it dyed orange a long time ago and continued to do so to this day. I had gotten rather attached to it, such that I barely remembered my original hair colour.

When I asked what my hair has to do with attracting potential customers, Chaeyoung winked and said that when people associate a colour or flavour with a particular person, they're more likely to remember the tasty drink. By that association, if the server left a positive impact on them, they're more likely to return as well, which equals more profit.

My boss is weird like that, but she's a good sport, she works hard alongside us and she takes care of us pretty well, so we tend to overlook the weird stuff she spouts.

Chaeyoung was a college dropout but she has it easy. I heard she hails from one of those _chaebol_ families and I don't doubt it for one second. Daddy Park set her up with this fancy establishment smack in the middle of the most luxurious district of Seoul, in a prime location opposite a university campus. For Chaeyoung, working is basically a hobby, something to pass the time, unlike for us mere peasants which is our daily bread.

But enough of that.

It was around five in the afternoon when I noticed the petite girl sitting in a booth all by herself, and don't ask me how I didn't notice her before. I'm not in the habit of staring at our customers. Aside from being rude, it also indicated that I was being idle, which I most certainly was not—I couldn't bear standing still for a second, just casually checking up on notifications on my phone in full view of everyone in the establishment, as some of my co-workers were wont to do when work slowed down. Once the flow of customers eases up a bit, I always make myself busy emptying cartons, cleaning the counters, renewing the coffee filters, cleaning the machines themselves and making sure I had enough ingredients stocked. 

The diner usually fills up with college students from the campus across the street, with the odd businessman or woman flitting in early when we open for lunch. So when my eyes momentarily landed on the girl, I assumed she was in college. She looked too young to be working yet. But I judged her to be around my age, so that would make her around twenty-five years.

Not bad looking for a woman in her mid-twenties.

Most girls I serve are silly teenagers with their faces either caked with foundation or else all pimply—not judging, I do have the odd pimple myself. But this girl's skin appeared to be porcelain smooth. She either followed a great skin care routine or else was extremely skilled with make-up.

I know I said I don't stare, but she was an exception. When a heavenly masterpiece like her flits into your orbit, it would be a disgrace to not appreciate her divine visuals.

So I let myself gawp shamelessly.

Thankfully, there weren't that much customers around—most people start drifting out to head home by this time in the afternoon—so I was pretty much free to gaze all I wanted, while surreptitiously pretending to clean glasses and polish the counters. I think Chaeyoung would be very pleased with the way they shone by the end of my intense polishing session.

I wondered when she had come in here and if so, how come I hadn't seen her. One of my other colleagues must have served her.

She was sitting next to the window with many books opened in front of her as she tapped a pencil on her chin. After a few moments she exhaled and abandoned her books in favour of pulling a saucer with a cake slice on it closer across the table, picking up the fork in the process.

I noted her lift a small piece of the pastry level with her full lips and daintily nibble on it. A wide smile curved on her face before she was devouring the rest of the cake slice heartily (I remember it was a Red Velvet, Chaeyoung's speciality).

I found the brunette's innocent enjoyment adorable—most other people simply come and sit down and eat or drink, stare into their phones or chatter with friends as they pored over books and papers. They don't gasp and fan themselves over Chaeyoung's tasteful creations that she lovingly bakes and decorates.

But this woman with milk chocolate brown hair caught my attention by her simple appreciation of a pastry.

"She's pretty huh?" someone said in an approving voice from behind me. I nodded absently, still watching the brunette.

"Why don't you go take her plate after she's finished?" Chaeyoung said immediately.

_Translation: go talk to her._

I sighed.

This wouldn't be the first time Chaeyoung tried setting me up with customers, some of which were girls that we were perfectly aware had partners too. But Chaeyoung was like that, a mischievous girl liable to wreak havoc if you didn't watch her. It was nothing short of a miracle that she managed to keep her café operating smoothly with relatively little mishaps beyond some minor kitchen fires, but I suppose even someone like Chaeyoung knows how to handle responsibility where it was due.

You should have seen her at the legendary staff parties she throws at her mansion—the one time I went, it was like the college frat parties you see in movies, only twice as chaotic. I faced near-death situations three times (one from a real, live rattlesnake in the pool; one from being pushed into the refrigerator by a group of cultists that Chaeyoung had invited and insisted they were old friends; and one from alcohol poisoning when I attempted beer pong.)

This time round however, something pushed me to actually listen to Chaeyoung and speak with the attractive woman.

I haven't been in the dating game since I dropped out in high school. Back then it was more like playing couples than serious dating. The dates only lasted for two days, four days maximum. Or maybe I was really bad at dating. And when I started working, I never really had time for girlfriends—it was always work work work for me.

I admit it can get lonely, especially watching my colleagues meeting up with their partners. Or watching Chaeyoung practically showing up every other day with a new lady friend (sometimes a guy) and then smooching them passionately before she enters the café. We always tease her about it whilst she just smirks.

That doesn't mean I was nervous though—I had plenty of practice dropping sweet lines and compliments to girls when I made them drinks (Chaeyoung's strategy). So sure, the nerves were there but I strode confidently over to her table, swaggered even. She glanced up when I approached and I nearly drowned in those soulful eyes.

"May I have your plate ma'am?" I asked politely. Lightning-fast, I let my gaze scan the books and papers before her and I let a little smile creep up on my face. _Bingo:_ I found what I was looking for.

"Oh yes thank you, here," she said sweetly—her voice was sweet like sugar. "Please send my compliments to the kitchen staff, the cake was delicious."

I bowed and decided to play my first card. "I will make sure to pass on your compliments, Jennie-ssi."

She raised an eyebrow. "You know my name?"

"It's written on the papers," I returned smoothly gesturing in front of her, "so unless it's the name of a friend, then I assumed it would be your name. My apologies if I'm being too forward."

She smiled, revealing her pearly whites again. "Not at all...Lalisa."

I cocked my head. "And how do you know my name?"

"I am a psychic," she explained before chuckling and hiding her face behind her hands. "Your face! No but, you do have a tag on, Lalisa-ssi."

_Oh right of course. She had completely turned the game on me._

"My friends call me Lisa," I informed her.

"Now why would you be telling me that?" she replied with a quirked eyebrow.

 _Sharp._ _Maybe it's because I want you to be my friend. Specifically my girlfriend_ , I wanted to tell her but instead I simply winked. This made her chuckle.

"You've been eyeing me for a good long while, Lisa-ssi," she said, amused.

"It would have been an insult not to notice your presence," I answered back, "I don't think I've ever seen you before?"

"My friend recommended this place—she's a regular." She had folded her arms across her chest and tilted her head at me. I couldn't handle the cuteness-I wanted to pinch her cheeks but thankfully I had enough self-control to prevent myself from doing so.

"Well then, please send my thanks to that friend," I told her, "because seeing your smile has literally brightened my day." And I was not exaggerating—it had been a chilly, overcast day, the kind that makes you want to curl up in bed but her smile made me feel warm all over. She laughed heartily, her eyes closing in half-moon crescents and I felt my chest puffing up proudly: I had made her laugh.

"Oh my, Lisa-ssi, is this how you flirt with the girls?" she grinned. Her intelligent eyes let me know that she was aware of my little game, but instead of being discouraged, I suddenly found myself further emboldened.

"Only with you," I smiled. And it was true—I had never invested in much effort with other girls before beyond the half-hearted cheesy pick-up line.

"Hmm," Jennie murmured, "very interesting..." She glanced up at me again, eyes warm and dark, like finest-quality roasted coffee beans. In hindsight, I curse myself for being so eager and desperate.

I cursed myself for being so starved for affection, that I didn't notice the first signal, the first red flag. In my defence, it was negligible, but still, _it was there._ I remember noting a shadow—a strange, almost melancholic gleam in her eyes as she smiled at me, as though she knew she was trapping me but went ahead anyway—but it was gone just as fast it came.

I was on edge, leaning forward ever so slightly, ready to hear her speak in that addictive drawl but as luck would have it, one of my colleagues behind the counter finally got impatient.

"Lisa! Are you quite done yet?!"

The spell between us broke and we both returned to reality.

"Shoot," I muttered, "I have to go..."

"Yeah, me too, it's getting late," she said, leaning back in her seat.

"Well, nice meeting you Jennie-ssi. Maybe I'll see you around?" I was still hopeful.

She laughed at me as she gathered her papers. "Go! Your co-worker doesn't look very happy."

I grinned and scampered back behind the counter where the shift supervisor, Namjoon, was waiting for me with arms crossed.

"Flirting on the job? Come on Manoban, you're better than that, I had to put Yoongi work double time while you were slacking off!"

"Sorry, won't happen again," I said brightly.

"Whatever Sunshine...."

I merely beamed at him as he stomped off to the other end of the counter. Shame that Chaeyoung had gone back to the kitchen—she would have given me a high-five.

It's my habit to smile in the face of adversity or negativity—I didn't get the nickname _Sunshine_ for nothing. Whenever other people had it rough, I'd be the one to cheer up the atmosphere, I'd be the one to push aside my feeling and focus instead on making people smile again.

I stayed up many nights into the small hours of morning, when Chaeyoung would call me after she got dumped or stood up on a date. She would be drunk, mumbling nonsense. I would stay up talking with her and comforting her, even if the next day I had to go in for a shift. Chaeyoung would spend a few days moping and throwing a pity party, crying to me during breaks but soon enough she'd have a new lady/guy friend on her arms to slobber over like a popsicle.

I helped Jungkook deal with his anxiety and stress over school and exams, I was there to hear him gush over this girl Yeri he never shut up about, I was there to pick him up when this particular bully called Jimin gave him a beating and humiliated him at a club...

Whenever trouble calls, I'm your go-to gal to get you smiling again. I'm your Sunshine. People ave always known me as the Sunny Girl, even at school. It was all I practically lived for—I thrived to see people smiling. No matter if deep down, I was lonely and lost myself.

_See, the thing is...nobody cares to know when I'm the one needing to be cheered up._

"Lalisa! Get back to work will ya? What's got into you today...."

I realised then I had forgotten the saucer still at Jennie-ssi's table and ran back to get it.

I couldn't help the very real smile that had my cheeks hurting as I picked up the piece of paper with a number scribbled on it.

 ** _Call me_** _,_ I read. I swear my heart started beating faster. I slipped the sliver of paper into my pocket and went on with my rounds, feeling like I hit the million-dollar jackpot. I couldn't stop grinning, I had a good feeling about this.

_What a fool._

>

**Three Years Later**

"Lisa?"

Jennie's arms wrap around my chest as she rests my head between my shoulder-blades.

"Come back to bed," she breathes, tip toeing to reach over my shoulder and whisper in my ear. Her voice never fails to raise goosebumps on my skin, despite her not being mine, not really. But I'm too selfish to give up this tormentingly beautiful dream.

I try to hold steady, to stand firm by my resolve but it's cracking, the walls break down faster than I can build them, no matter how carefully I try to save my heart from hurting....maybe I am masochistic.

But there isn't anything remotely pleasurable in desiring love that you very well know can't and won't be reciprocated It's always like this. No matter how much I tell myself to keep my distance, I cave in to my desires and crumble like a sand castle.

In one quick motion I turn around in her arms and capture her lips, my hands straying to the small of her back as I press her closer to me, eradicating the minimal space between our bodies. She crashes into my chest, one hand clinging to my hair and the other hand sliding up from the back to grip my shoulder blade, hard.

A low sound escapes her as she arches into me, melding our upper bodies together.

I kiss her, intent on devouring her, intent on obliterating all thoughts of _her_ from her subconscious. I let my mouth caress her tender skin over her jaw, my tongue laving the porcelain perfection of her throat. I want to be skin to skin with her, I want my bones and nerves and blood vessels to become one with her body because she is a goddess, my goddess, my goddess who belongs only to _me_.

Jennie responds quickly when my hands grip her hips. She jumps up, hooking her ankles around the small of my back. She's still kissing me. She's also desperate to forget.

"Lisa," she pants, "Lisa..."

_Maybe this time....maybe this time...._

Her scent is enough to drive me crazy—because I can smell myself on her from earlier, I have marked her, she is mine. Her tugs on my hair, insistent and sharp, spin me into a heady rush of carnality as desire pools and courses throughout my body until my whole being is thrumming with that single desire singing like fire in my blood.

 _I want you Jen, I want you, I want all of you._ _Body, mind, soul._

She's in her flimsy nightdress but I will take care of that in a minute as I lower her down on our bed and she lies before me with that sultry gaze, hands stretched above her head, open and willingly giving herself up to me.

 _Why can't I have you Jen?_ I wept inwardly, _I have given you everything._ _I'm giving up._

But then her hand grazes my face and all rational thoughts instantly disappear as she brings me back to reality and my fantasy: Kim Jennie is my girlfriend, wholly dedicated to me and me only. I hover over her, straddling her as she pants and reaches up to fit her mouth to mine, her whimpers leaving an exotic aftertaste on my tongue, and it's enough to make me give in, as always, to our hopeless quest for love.

"Please," Jennie says softly. She looks at me. Affectionately, I want to say. But I know that she's seeing a different face, a different girl.

I'm just here by proxy, by convenience.

Because I'm too weak.

I start making quick work of the divine creature underneath me. I'm so dazed and lost in her perfection that I barely register that soon I'm in the familiar state of vulnerability under her keen gaze as she helps me undress yet again.

She's ethereal, a thin sheen of sweat covering her skin. She quivers with desire, her body taut as bowstring. Jennie tilts her head back for me to worship the salt running down her throat. I taste her again and again, diving back because I am greedy and I want more, more than she is capable of giving me. I latch onto her throat, making her mewl, rousing me further as she scrapes my back with her nails. I lave the bite with my tongue, soothing the red mark as she moans. Her nails etch into my skin.

Such blissful pain, stinging raw.

I lower my body down, careful not to crush her with my weight. The slips of her night dress fall over her shoulders and my fingers tangle in her silky tresses as we lock hot lips and struggle and writhe against each other, fighting to destroy the space between us that yawns wide like a fathomless abyss. She detaches her mouth from mine, sinking her teeth into my shoulder to return the favour—she was always a feisty one in bed.

I should feel proud for being marked by my girlfriend, but instead, I feel used.

Because as always, in the heat of our relentless chase for that euphoric release, sweaty bodies clinging desperately to each other, I hear her breathy moan, gasping into my ear:

**_"Jisoo!"_ **

It kills me. It shrivels up my confidence.

 **_"_ ** **_Oh my God, Jisoo!"_ **

It makes my heart stop. It tears my sanity to shreds.

But I am not done yet.

I grit my teeth, set my jaw and hide my face in her shoulder as her fingers lock in my hair and find purchase there, tugging savagely with the rhythm of my body.

_Am I not good enough? Will you ever call my name?_

"Jennie," I grunt, hoping to rouse her. But she doesn't hear, she never hears.

Her voice is still so beautiful despite already having gone through multiple rounds- but she can be inconsolable like that, unsatisfied because the new drug (me) is subpar to something far stronger, far sweeter than anything I can be. My love is, wretchedly, not enough.

But I still give her my all.

The melody of her whimpers crashes against my ear, piercing through my ear drums. Her name will stay echoing and bouncing around in my head for days.

Again and again, Jennie cries her name. Again and again, it's like an axe striking my heart, splitting it in two.

 _You wanted this,_ I tell myself, _you stayed. You love her._

"Jen," I growl, sensing my release was nearing and judging by her thrashing, she's close too.

 **" _Jisoo_** _ **!**_ **"** she sobs. Her arms tighten around my neck, practically choking me, but I don't care, I am a madwoman, driven by one desire to have the woman beneath me screaming my name. But I am fighting a losing battle—she is in love with a ghost.

_How can I ever win against a woman who isn't there anymore?_

I work my muscles harder, mechanically, on autopilot, clenching my teeth as Jennie wails, the most melodious cries that render my heart so helpless in wonder. I shut down my heart, block my mind. I try to unmake the world and retreat within the darkness and quiet.

 _ **"Please,"**_ ****she begs, her head thrown back, **"** ** _I'm close, so close!"_**

But it's impossible to numb myself because a shred of stubbornness remains, always fighting and fighting against the wave of despair that rolls upon me whenever I hear Jennie utter her name. I am always foolishly waiting. Foolishly hoping, while each day, another part of me dies inside.

_One day, she will say my name. One day she will tell me she loves me._

I have to believe it. But three years down the line, teetering on the edge between bliss and torture, who am I kidding?

"I love you," I whisper miserably as she screams one final time, pitch rising higher and higher before her voice cuts off abruptly. And then we were still, chest to chest, sharing breaths. I watch Jennie open her eyes, glossy with tears. She cards her fingers in my hair, her lips twitching up into a sad smile, as always.

"Me too," she says softly, indicating she heard my feeble attempt at consoling her. Her thumb strokes circles along my cheekbone.

"Not yet, you don't," I tell her, "but I won't stop waiting."

Her smile is broken as she pulls me down for a kiss, a kiss she injects with a thousand unspoken apologies, because she knows she's lying too.

>

She never fails to thank me afterwards, as we lie in various state of undress beneath the covers. It seems she is satiated for tonight. Sometimes her longing for Jisoo resurfaces with such intensity that it takes a few more rounds before she's too spent to think of her.

I let her sleep in my arms, because I am a good girlfriend. And also because having the woman I am so hopelessly in love with sleeping soundly next to me helps to soothe the raw pain of my broken heart, as ironic as that sounds.

_And also because I am selfish._

I glance over at her now.

Moonlight splashes across her face, making her look more unreal than ever, something out of my reach. I stroke her cheek with the back of my hand, carefully tucking a dark strand of hair behind her ear. I kiss her forehead and she sighs in her sleep.

I roll on my back and sigh as well.

It's been three years since that fateful meeting in the café. We started dating—normal couple outings that we both enjoyed. We had our moments of disagreements but mostly, it was just blissful to see her face after a long day at work, welcoming me into her arms as she came to fetch me for a date. I couldn't believe my luck. I thought Jennie was too good to be true.

Turns out I was right.

I should have known better with the second red flag—her reluctance for intimacy beyond kissing and hugging. I wouldn't count this as a red flag per se—I assumed Jennie didn't want to fall headlong into our relationship, start out heavy and then backpedal. I was actually rather pleased she held back because to me, it meant she was trying to take our relationship slowly and seriously. And to be quite honest, it let me catch up on a few...ahem...tutorials, about the act of intimacy itself, because I have never done it before, and I'd be damned if I disappointed my girlfriend.

So imagine my reaction after the initial thrill that came with her accepting to sleep together, I heard her call out this girl's name whilst caught up in our passionate embrace.

 _Devastated._ _Betrayed._ _Insecure._

She cried so much that first time, begging me to stay and listen because I swear, I just about bolted out of that room and ran out of the block in just my birthday suit.

_We had been dating for months and when I thought we were about to reach peak intimacy, she speaks of another woman?_

Jealousy and rage flared up in me, seething and bubbling like poison in my blood.

"She's dead, Lisa," Jennie wept, "she's nothing now. She's dead."

And so it was that I learned of her previous girlfriend, Kim Jisoo, her high school sweetheart that died some two years previously from an illness. Cancer, I think she said.

They had grown up together, practically inseparable. And it seems that Jennie hadn't yet moved on from Jisoo—in fact she had enrolled for the major Jisoo had been studying—a desperate and pathetic attempt to feel closer to her.

"If...if you leave, I understand," Jennie's voice trembled, afraid, "you'll only get hurt if you stay, Lisa. I'll just hurt you....I'll break you and I can't take it, because you've been so good to me. You love me...."

This was it: the final chance, the final choice, the final decision that would cement my fate.

And therein lay the problem—I love Jennie. I still do.

She came into my life and lifted me up from my dank hole of loneliness. She understood me wholly—I should have known her empathy stemmed from the fact that she was so familiar with the feeling of being alone, even in a crowded place.

With her, the smiles came easy. With her, I flourished like a sunflower. _"Sunshine? More like sunflower,"_ she laughed once, adjusting the flower mask I happily donned on my face. She had gotten it for me on our three-month anniversary.

With her, I felt important as we walked side by side in the street-I wanted the whole world to notice me and my girlfriend, the most perfect woman in existence—Kim Jennie. But turns out, she's not so perfect after all.

I thought I had made her happy. I thought I was her medicine, as she was for me. _Fantasies, all of it._

That first night together, I remember sitting on the bed with her, holding her from her shoulders.

"I love you," I told the shaking girl. She looked lost, her eyes swimming in tears. I could not blame her for what she did to me—the heart wants what it wants. Hers yearned for a girl that was no more. And mine, fatally, wanted this beautiful, broken soul.

"I love you, and I'm staying," I told her, "I'm not leaving. You will learn to love me. It will be okay."

I promised her over and over, convincing her, convincing myself. _I will make Jennie forget her...._

Needless to say, I had not succeeded.

Remembering that promise now as we lay in bed makes me smile and close my eyes. I want to laugh at my younger, stubborn naive self.

 _Love conquers all, Love wins in the end,_ say the fairy tales. But that's just what they are—fairy tales, lies we feed ourselves.

I hate this Jisoo with a vehement passion that rivals the blazing fire I nurse for Jennie. I curse Jisoo's name every time something ill befalls me. I hate her for entrapping my girlfriend in a numb prison that I can't reach. Jisoo might have been a good person in her life ( I never ask Jennie about her) but to me, she is absolutely despicable. I had not succeeded to stamp her out of Jennie's mind, and I very much doubt I will succeed, not even with all the love and care I could possibly shower her with.

Yet, one might ask, why do I cling onto a girl with a clearly damaged state of mind? Why stay and endure the pain that chokes me up and leaves me breathless, unable to sleep?

Chaeyoung has asked me this question many times, puzzled by my unwavering loyalty, worried for my sanity.

_Why?_

The reason is simple enough: I'm scared to be lonely.

Once I had gotten used to having Jennie around, I feared going back to my previous life—cold and dreary without her warm presence, her cooking, her scent lingering on my clothes, her laughter. Even if it's all fake and fleeting, I will take it. I will hang on to her like she is my lifeline.

In essence, I am a coward. A coward unable to release Kim Jennie from her misery. I want to live in my selfish fantasy where I will be the heroine on a quest to rescue her princess. One day, I will rescue my girlfriend from the wretched phantom's clutches, because that is what I promised.

I prefer to see her in pain. I prefer to endure the same pain alongside her. I prefer to suffer than face my worst fear: losing her and starting out once again in the vast, incomprehensibly lonely world.

And so a new day rises, and Jennie stirs next to me on the sheets when sunlight falls right on her face. She blinks her eyes open, long eyelashes fluttering. She looks like an enchanted princess waking up from her thousand year-old sleep.

"Morning," I greet her, "sleep well?"

Sometimes she says yes, sometimes she says no. But she never fails to give me a little kiss on the cheek, a consolation prize for my nightly services.

"Thank you," Jennie tells me sincerely, her eyes bloodshot. I merely hug her closer as she snuggles into my side. I can hear her soft, gentle breath wafting over my chest. Morning aftermaths are the calmest but most bizarre occurrences—we never talk about what happened during the night. We know what happened, but we never address the elephant in the room. What is there to talk about anyway? I chose this. I chose her. We have never spoken about my choice again after that first time.

Jennie shifts, her finger tracing whorls and circles on my heart, just above my chest. I run a hand through her rumpled hair. In a few minutes, we will wake up, wash, eat breakfast as we talk about the weather and news, kiss and I will drop her off at campus while I go in for work. She will probably visit me later. And we'll have lunch together.

I should squeeze in a date some time soon. She'd like that. Then later we'll come back home, have supper, watch a movie and sleep. Or try to comfort each other, if she feels inconsolable again. It's become my routine, a routine I find great comfort in doing, simply because I have someone else doing it all with me.

Jennie knows I won't leave her, and I know that she won't leave me either. I'd like to think that it's because she knows she would be lonely if she did leave, pretty much my reason for staying as well, but I'll never know.

I close my eyes and wait for the alarm clock to ring.

**Author's Note:**

> originally a hopesoo oneshot of mine on wattpad, changed it to jenlisa because for some reason (or at least to me) angst fits that ship so well and I am an evil writer who likes to make their characters suffer because why not :P


End file.
